The Exploits of Juve

  XXVII

  THE MOTHER SUPERIOR

  "The Mother Superior, if you please?"

  The door shut automatically upon Fandor. He was in the little innercourt of the small convent, face to face with a Sister, who gazed inalarm at the unexpected guest. The journalist persisted:

  "Can I see the Mother Superior?"

  "Well, sir, yes--no, I think not."

  The worthy nun evidently did not know what to say. Finally making up hermind she pointed to a passage, and, drawing aside to let the journalistpass, said:

  "Be good enough to go in there and wait a few moments."

  Fandor was ushered into a large, plain and austere room--doubtless theparlour of the community. At the windows hung long, white curtains,while before the half-dozen armchairs lay tiny rugs of matting; thefloor, very waxed, was slippery to the tread. The journalist regardedcuriously the walls upon which were hung here and there religiousfigures or chromos of an edifying kind. Above the chimney hung a greatcrucifix of ebony. But for the noise from without, the passing of thetrains and motors, and were it not also for the fine savour of cookingand roast onions, one might have thought oneself a hundred leagues fromthe world in the peaceful calm of this little convent.

  Fandor, on leaving Bonardin, had decided to fulfill without delay apious mission given him by Juve's victim.

  Taken in at the time of his accident by the Sisters of the RueCharmille, Bonardin had received from them the first aid his conditionrequired, and as he had left them without a word of thanks, he hadbegged Fandor to return and hand them on his behalf a fifty-franc billfor their poor.

  After some minutes the door opened and a nun appeared. She greetedFandor with a slight movement of the head; while the journalist boweddeferentially before her.

  "Have I the honour of speaking to the Mother Superior?"

  "Our Mother sends her excuses," murmured the nun, "for not being ableto receive you at this moment. However, I can take her place, sir. I amin charge of the finances of the house."

  "I bring you news, Sister."

  The nun clasped her hands.

  "Good news, I hope! How is the poor young man doing?"

  "As well as can be expected; the ball was extracted without trouble bythe doctors."

  "I shall thank St. Comus, the patron saint of surgeons. And hisassailant? Surely he will be well punished?"

  Fandor smiled.

  "His assailant was the victim of a terrible misconception. He is a mostupright man."

  "Then I will pray to St. Yves, the patron saint of advocates, to get himout of his difficulty."

  "Well," cried Fandor, "since you have so many saints at command, Sister,you would do well to point out to me one who might favour the efforts ofthe police in their struggle with the ruffians."

  The nun was a woman of sense who understood a joke. She rejoined: "Youmight try St. George, sir, the patron saint of warriors." Then becomingserious again, the Sister made an end of the interview. "Our MotherSuperior will be much touched, sir, when I report the kind step you havetaken in coming here to us."

  "Allow me, Sister," broke in Fandor, "my mission is not over yet."

  Here the journalist discreetly proffered the note.

  "This is from M. Bonardin, for your poor."

  The nun was profuse in her thanks, and looking at Fandor with a touch ofmalice:

  "You may perhaps smile, sir, if I say I shall thank St. Martin, thepatron saint of the charitable. In any case I shall do it with my wholeheart."

  The soft sound of a bell came from the distance; the Sisterinstinctively turned her head and looked through the windows at theinner cloister of the convent.

  "The bell calls you, no doubt, Sister?" he inquired.

  "It is, indeed, the hour of Vespers."

  Fandor, followed by the Sister, left the parlour and reached the outergate. Already the porter was about to open it for him when he pulled upshort. Moving at a measured pace, one behind the other, the ladies ofthe community crossed the courtyard, going toward the chapel at the farend of the garden.

  "Sister," Fandor inquired anxiously, "who is that nun who walks at thehead?"

  "That is our holy Mother Superior."

  Fandor was lucky enough to find a taxi as he left the little convent,into which he jumped: he was immersed in such deep reflections that whenthe taxi stopped he was quite surprised to find himself in RueBonaparte, when he had meant to go up to Bonardin's and expected toreach Montmarte.

  "Where did I tell you to go?" he asked the driver.

  The man looked at his fare in amazement:

  "To the address you gave me, I suppose."

  Fandor did not reply, but paid his fare.

  "Heaven inspires me," he thought. "To be sure I wanted to see Bonardinto tell him I had done his commission, but it was to prove I should havegone after what I found out at the convent."

  The journalist remained motionless on the pavement without seeming tofeel the jostling of the passers-by. He stood there with his eyes fixedon the ground, his mind lost in a dream. He had unconsciously gone backseveral years, to his mysterious childhood, stormy and restless. He wentover again in thought, this last affair, which had once more brought himso intimately into Juve's life: the abominable crime in the CiteFrochot, in which Chaleck and Loupart were involved, and behind themFantomas--the crime of which the victim--as Juve had clearlyestablished--was no other than Lady----

  He quickly entered the house and rushed up the stairs, but halted on thelanding.

  "What have I come here for? If I am to believe the papers, Juve is underlock and key: It must be instinct that guides me. I feel that I am goingto see Juve: besides, I must."

  He did not ring, for he enjoyed the unique favour of a key which allowedhim to enter Juve's place at will. He entered and went straight to thestudy: it was empty. He then cried out:

  "Juve! Many things have happened since I had the pleasure of seeing you!Be good enough to let me into your office. I have two words to say toyou."

  But Fandor's words fell dead in the silence of the apartment. After thissummons he made his way into the office, and ensconced himself in anarmchair: clearly Fandor was assured his friend had heard him. And hewas not wrong! Two seconds later, lifting a curtain that hid a secretentrance to the study, Juve appeared.

  "You speak as if you knew I was here!"

  The two men looked at each other and burst into shouts of laughter.

  "So you understood it was all a put-up affair intended to make ouropponents believe that for a time I was powerless to hurt them. What doyou think of my notion?"

  "First rate," replied Fandor. "The more so that the fair Josephine 'sawwith her own eyes' some of the force taking you off to prison."

  "Everybody believe it, don't they?"

  "Everybody."

  "Look here. You spoke just now as though you knew I was here?"

  Fandor smiled.

  "The odour of hot smoke is easily distinguished from the dankness ofcold tobacco."

  Juve approved.

  "Well done, Fandor. Here, for your pains, roll a cigarette and let'stalk. Have you anything fresh?"

  "Yes--and a lot, too!"

  Fandor related the talk he had had with Bonardin touching Valgrand, theactor, and Mme. Valgrand, alias--Mme. Raymond.

  Juve uttered his reflections aloud.

  "This is one riddle the more to solve. I still adhere to the theory thatJosephine, some months ago, was brought into intimate relations withLady Beltham, whose body I discovered at Cite Frochot and lateridentified."

  Fandor sprang up and placed both of his hands upon Juve's shoulders.

  "Lady Beltham is not dead: She is alive! As surely as my name's Fandor,the Superior of the Convent at Nogent is--Lady Beltham."